


Simon Snow and the Insidious Humdrum

by galliumspoon



Series: Simon Snow and the Insidious Humdrum [1]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, He needs more love, Hurt/Comfort, I'm so behind help, M/M, NaNoWriMo 2016, Non-Graphic Torture, Panic Attacks, Penelope Bunce is a fucking B O SS, and baz is a sad smol gay, the insidious humdrum is so interesting, the mage is such an ass jfc, who is surprised
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:43:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8533543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galliumspoon/pseuds/galliumspoon
Summary: Simon Snow was never visited by Natasha Pitch, never kissed Baz, but they still find each other. But Simon comes with unexpected baggage that Baz may not be able to help with.





	1. Cats

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I know I have other works to finish that I said I would! (I have another chapter in the works for that, I promise.) But this is for NaNoWriMo, and since I'm so behind, I'm posting this to light a fire under my ass and finish.
> 
> I'm sorry this is so comma-ridden. I have a disease.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz doesn't like cats very much, especially since they've started to get fur all over everything he owns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help I can't write.

Baz frowns as he opened his apartment door, seeing the cat (that was not his) sitting on his formerly-cat-hair-free sofa and looking incredibly smug.

Closing his door, he puts his hands on his hips and stares at the ginger feline spreading ginger hairs all over his nice black couch. “What to do with you?” He asks the cat, who just ignored him for grooming their tail.

This is not the first time it has happened either, Baz knows. This is simply the only time that he has caught the cat in his apartment. It appears that it may be more than one now, however, given that this cat’s ginger fur does not match the black cat hair found on his pillow just yesterday, nor the white cat hair he found on the clothes in his laundry basket.

The cats have absolutely no way of getting in, at least that Baz has knowledge of. He closes and locks the windows and doors, and there are no holes in the walls that he is aware of. But no matter, he decides, he will just return the cat to the owner’s address, hopefully on the tag that he spotted on the cat. During this, Baz thinks, he will give a stern lecture to the cats’ owner, if they all indeed belong to them, and ensure that no such things happen again.

With a course of action decided upon, Baz manages to catch the cat (thank you enhanced reflexes) and reads off the tag. Apparently the beast belongs to his neighbor two floors above, and his heart skips when he reads the owner’s name. _Simon._

Simon Snow, of course, disappeared without a trace in the middle of their eighth year, and despite the constant search on the Mage, and therefore the entire World of Mages, has still not been found. There had been sightings, but Snow had always moved before they could move in. It was odd, to say the least, having the Mage’s Heir on the run from the duties he had seemingly taken great faith in before he left. There was a period, of course, four years previous, where Snow had returned to the Mage for a short time before taking flight again.

Baz didn’t blame him, how could he? He hates the Mage and his stupid crusade against the old families and he understands the need to leave magic for a little while. But Snow had been so invested in the cause, the fight against both the Insidious Humdrum and the old families, Baz just didn’t understand why he was still gone.

Baz had been questioned extensively when Snow first went missing, but he had known nothing. If he did, he would have gone after Snow himself. Despite his complete ignorance on the whereabouts of Snow, Penelope Bunce had shown up at the door of their (his) room and demanded that he gave her answers.

“Cough it up, Pitch, what’ve you done to him.” She had pushed passed him as he gaped at her and sat on Snow’s bed, staring up at Baz, still stood at the door in shock. She promised that she wouldn’t leave until she was convinced that he didn’t know anything.

He was still getting calls from her, five years later.

But this wasn’t that Simon, he knew (hoped). Because even though it would be completely Snow to own fifty cats and keep track of exactly none of them, Baz knew that chance was slim to none. Baz doesn’t want to see him anyways, if it was him, because he would be incredibly angry at all of the Penelope Bunce he had to endure due to him running off (she was quite a good friend, though, and possibly his only one) and he would definitely tell him off for subjecting him to such torture (start crying because he missed him so much).

There was also the minor problem of Baz being completely gone (still) on Simon Snow.

* * *

 

The door in front of Baz wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, dark green paint, peeling a little bit. The gold “3H” on the door was smudged with oily fingerprints and matched the doorknob.

Nothing terrifying, Baz reminds himself, simply a door, with someone on the other side that he doesn’t want to talk to, regardless of whether or not they were a past (current) crush. He takes a deep breath, shifts his grip on the mewing cat in his arms, and raps twice, sharply, on the door.

After fidgeting restlessly, wiping his hands on his jeans (crap, they were expensive), and running his narrow, pale fingers through both his hair, then the cat’s fur for a few moments, the door swings open and the cat takes this opportunity to drop from his arms (scratching them up in the process) and darting inside.

Simon Snow, because why the fuck wouldn’t Baz’s endlessly horrid luck ever give him a break, stares at him for about two milliseconds before slamming the door and locking it.

Snow’s heart is stuttering in fear and he sounds like he’s arguing with someone else on the other side of the door, but Baz can’t hear another heartbeat. Baz, meanwhile, is knocking softly on the door, pleading for Snow to come out and talk to him. Snow starts sobbing, his heart beating faster. Baz feels a deep pain in his chest, sliding down to sit on the floor, back on the door, knees to his chest.

Just before Baz is about to start breaking down the door, the sobbing and muttering abruptly stops, and Snow’s heartbeat drops immediately to a normal, freakishly slow pace, as if he had just been taking a nap on the couch instead of hysterically sobbing.

The door abruptly opens, Baz almost falling before spinning to look up into Simon Snow’s face, into green eyes that are not Simon Snow’s. He blinks in shock. Not-Snow’s green eyes glint dangerously, like the steel edge of the Mage’s Sword. He extends his hand to help Baz up, so like Snow’s when he was eighteen, moles and delicate bones and firm grip.

“I feel like we should have a talk, Basilton. Just you and I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need a beta and I'm lonely.
> 
> Visit and talk to me [here](http://thegalliumspoon.tumblr.com/). (Commenting's cool too.)


	2. Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHHAHAHHA this was totally pulled out of my ass  
> but what isn't during NaNo?  
> I also should really be doing homework but who gives a fuck (hint: not me)
> 
> this was a pain to write (especially trying to balance timing), dialogue sucks

Baz feels numb. He is sitting at a round, blue-washed table in a surprisingly normal kitchen, (he’s not sure what he expected) desperately clutching a white mug of gently steaming tea with a delicate painting of a koala sitting in a teacup on the side.

Not-Simon is puttering around the kitchen, gracefully navigating despite the black cat winding their way around his feet and preparing himself a cup of tea (Snow’s favorite kind) while petting the white cat sniffing the lid of the kettle that had shrieked just moments previous.

Finally, breaking the tension building in the room, Not-Simon speaks as he slides into the seat opposite Baz, setting his own mug on the table, a blue one with a t-rex drinking tea drawn on the side. “I don’t really like tea, but he likes it, so I humor him.”

“Him being?”

“Simon, of course.”

Baz nods, eyes wandering, as he tries to avoid eye contact with the person sitting across from him.

“You have questions.” Not-Simon says, trying to catch Baz’s attention. His voice is the same as Snow’s, but his inflections are different. More measured, calm rather than a stuttering rush of information that Snow would spit out whenever he felt safe enough to do so.

Baz looks up from the tea in his hands, indignant. “Of course I do. Like, where the fuck is Snow? And who the fuck are you? He never mentioned relatives and except for your eyes you look just like—”

Not-Simon holds up a delicate hand, efficiently cutting Baz’s tirade off. “The first question, at least, is easy. Simon’s body is right here.” at this he gestures towards the table, palms facing up. “And his consciousness, while not present currently, is in the body that it needs to be.” His nose scrunches up, as if witnessing something distasteful, “Unfortunately I cannot say the same for myself.”

Baz waits, patiently staring at Not-Simon, who’s green eyes are focused on his tea cup as he taps the side with his index finger.

“Give me your wand.” Baz is caught off guard by the request and starts to protest. Not-Simon’s expression darkens and he holds out his hand, snapping. “Your wand. Now, Basilton.”

Baz pulls his wand out of his jean’s back pocket, where he had shoved it earlier in a desperate attempt to keep it from disappearing into his partially unpacked apartment again. (Now that he notices it, there are still boxes scattered around this apartment, too.) But just before he hands it over, he pulls his hand back slightly, gray eyes narrowing in distrust as they meet green.

“Why do you want it?”

“Oh for Crowley’s sake, Basilton, I’m not going to keep it.” Not-Simon snatches Baz’s wand out of his hand and places it on the table, hand resting over the grip. “It’s so you don’t spell me when I attempt to tell you who I am.”

“That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“Nothing in this world is particularly inspiring, is it?”

“Stop deflecting, asshat.”

Not-Simon clucks his tongue and shakes his head. He picks up Baz’s wand and examines it before setting it down again and staring into Baz’s eyes. “You curse a great deal more than you used to, it’s rather unbecoming, don’t you think?”

The brunette grits his teeth, patience running thin. “Stop. Deflecting. You. Piece. Of. Shit.”

“That’s rather harsh, given that you don’t know who I am yet.” Not-Simon cocks his head, “Of course it is quite accurate,” he muses, “but Simon and I have been working together on the self-loathing we both experience. So perhaps I shouldn’t agree with you on that sentiment.”

Baz is very nearly vibrating with the tension of being kept in suspense and his wand being in the hands of an unknown, possibly malevolent, force.

Seeing this, the person in his enemy’s (roommate’s? crush’s?) body, who has done absolutely nothing to clear up the very confusing situation thus far, clears his throat and speaks. “I’m currently known as Zentavious, or Tavious to those close to me.” He pauses, flexing his hands and staring at them, before looking at Baz almost shyly from under Snow’s eyelashes. Studying his face and looking for an inkling of anything beyond the utter confusion resting on the brunette’s face.

“You knew me as the Insidious Humdrum.”

* * *

 

There is a moment of silence as Baz attempts to process the information he had just received. He then lunges across the table, spilling both cups of tea, though Baz’s was nearly empty, and startling both cats. They dart through the cracked door of another room, streaks of white and black, as Baz wraps his hands across the Humdrum’s throat.

The Humdrum doesn’t struggle beyond tapping Baz’s forearm and wheezing out, “While I understand your homicidal urges, I would avoid killing this body because I’m certainly not the only resident.”

Baz reluctantly lets him up and the Humdrum scoots away from Baz to lean against the cabinets under the kitchen window. He rubs his throat and rasps, “Thank you kindly.”

Baz plants himself on the floor roughly, across the Humdrum, eyes flinty. “Explain yourself.”

The green-eyed man shakes his head, still rubbing his throat.

“I would love to, believe me. I feel no particular fondness for the way you treated Simon when you were roommates, and I would love nothing more than to see your worldview demolished and watch as you stood in the ruins.” He straightens, staring defiantly at Baz. “But this is Simon’s story to tell, and I feel that he would attempt to soften the blow, given the inexplicable affection he feels towards you.” The Humdrum looks away. “This would be most efficient, particularly given that I possess no desire to clean up after one more mess of a person.”

“But—” Baz starts.

“No buts, Basilton.” The Humdrum cuts him off, waving his hand through the air. “Simon is only just calming down after your unexpected arrival. I have no desire to cause him undue distress by being indelicate. You can wait, he is my only priority right now, not your unreasonable lust for information.”

He pushes himself off the floor, gesturing for Baz to do the same. “Simon will contact you when he desires it and, frankly, I have no desire to see your face or have your unnecessarily broody countenance darken my doorstep ever again.” He pushes Baz out the door after slipping his wand back into Baz’s back pocket. “So if someone contacts you it certainly won’t be me.”

The Humdrum clears his throat, gesturing for Baz to leave the door way and as he turns to protest, the green-eyed man says, “If you will excuse me, I have _your_ mess to clean up.”

He slams the door in Baz’s face and once again Baz is alone in the hallway. This time minus a cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> As always, I thrive off of the souls of small children, comments, and conversations held on my [tumblr](http://thegalliumspoon.tumblr.com/). So if you talk to my lonely ass, more children will be able to keep their souls. ;)
> 
> I'm still looking for a beta, I need help guyyys.
> 
> You look great today. :)

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [here](http://thegalliumspoon.tumblr.com/). (come talk to me about anything)
> 
> Kudos and comments will warm the smol black blob that is my sinful heart.  
> Enver, the lovely human he is, proofread this, but he doesn't know what Snowbaz is! (He's a busy guy, what can I say, I'm dismayed too.)  
> But because he doesn't know who these lovely bebs are, I need someone to tell me if I'm veering wildly off character. (I need a beta, yo.) (Message me on my tumblr if you're interested.)
> 
> Goodbye butterflies, you all look hot as fuck today, even if you don't think so. I am omniscient. Don't doubt me.


End file.
